Dear Agony
by bloemhoffan3000
Summary: Mr Schuester has asked his gleeks to meet up in the auditorium following news of David Karofsky's attempted suicide. Everyone is there. But where is Quinn? (3.14 aftermath. because Kurt was totally out of line, and my Quinn is fragile.)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The auditorium of William McKinley High School was not the most popular hang-out, despite it being a prime piece of real estate. I mean come on, it was usually empty, not to mention dark, plus it came with doors. The seats weren't too bad either. Make-out heaven, really. And yet most students never set foot inside the room if they didn't absolutely have to, which usually meant graduation ceremonies, or if a teacher died. Unless of course you were a member of the New Directions.

The dimly lit space was currently filled with the murmurs of glee-clubbers, sitting comfortably together on the stagefloor. William Schuester, their faculty advisor, was fiddling with an unopened jar of what looked like peanut-butter; a single spoon peaking out of his pants pocket. The mood was somber in light of recent events, and the kids were anxious to know why they had been asked to meet up. The fact that the only adult in attendance hasn't said anything to them yet, wasn't helping their nerves.

Santana Lopez sighed softly, taking a glance around her teammates' tight faces. Whatever the reason for their impromptu meeting, she just wanted it to be over. The waiting around was killing her. A squeeze to her thigh made her look back at the blonde on her right. Brittany Pierce offered her a small snile once she realized she had gained Santana's attention. The latina raised an eyebrow in response.

"Is that a spoon in Mr Schue's pocket, or is he just happy to see us?" The words made her smirk, and she winked at Brittany when she spotted it too.

Kurt Hummel, sitting across from them, watched as the two cheerleaders giggled at their little inside joke, stomache twisting involuntarily. If things had been just a little bit different, especially considering how Santana was practically thrown out of the proverbial closet (and on syndicated television, no less) he wouldn't be seeing that right now. It made him feel even guiltier, because he hadn't thought for one second that the latina might be tempted to end her life, just like he hadn't thought David would go as far as he did either. Yet the truth was, if anyone had reason to want to end their lives, Santana was the prime candidate.

The girl in question sighed in Mr Schue's general direction, clearly impatient. Whatever lameness was about to go down, she really hoped it wouldn't take too long. While her and Karofsky weren't friends, he had been her beard and junior prom date, and a pretty decent fellow Bullywhip. She wanted to check up on him in the hospital before her date with her girlfriend later. God, it felt so good to finally be able to say that out loud! Screw this, I aint gonna hang around all day!

"Uh, mister Schue, what exactly are we waiting for?"

Instead of answering her, the curly-haired glee director waved quarterback Finn Hudson and future star Rachel Berry over, motioning for foreign exchange student Rory Flanagan to move closer and take a seat next to him. "Thanks for being prompt guys," he said to the smiling couple. "I know you're wondering why I called you here, and I'll explain as soon as we're all here."

"Fine," Santana huffed. "Can we wrap this up now that Finchel has deigned to grace us with their nauseating presence?" A sweeping hand gesture accompanied her words. She pinned the smaller brunette with a glare. " I've got better shit to do."

Mr Schue took a deep breath, no doubt gearing up for a long rant about teamwork and being a family that nobody was interested in, but stopped to frown at an oblivious Brittany. The blonde dancer was pouting sadly at her phone. "Brittany, could you please put that down? I really need everyone's attention."

"But Q isn't here yet," she said. "Why won't she pick up her phone, San? Is she mad at me?" She turned sad eyes on her girlfriend, hoping for an answer. San always had an answer.

"Of course not babe," the latina assured her. "Maybe she's in the john or something. Here, lemme try." She took out her own phone, hitting two on speed dial.

"Santana..." Mr Schue tried to intervene. "I'm sure Quinn is on her-"

"Q, what the hell?" Santana interrupted him. "Pick up the damn phone, Tubbers," she growled, scowling in irritation. "If I have to sit through this crap meeting, then so do you."

"Santana!" Mr Schue said sharply, also becoming irritated now. Really, was it so hard to listen to him? "This is important, okay? Now, hang up the phone and pay attention. You can fill Quinn in later."

"NO!" she shouted. The others all drew back almost instinctively, while Brittany grabbed onto Santana's thigh again. She could feel the other girl trembling, and frowned at her in response. The latina took a calming breath, placing her hand reassuringly over Brittany's. "Sorry babe," she whispered to her, trying and failing to offer a smile. "I'm sorry Mr Schue," she added.

"That's okay, Santana," he answered. "Now, if we can all settle down? I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Dave. I want us to be honest about how this affected us, even if we weren't particularly close to him. Because even though it might not feel like it, we are affected by his suicide attempt, and keeping those kinds of feelings inside is never a good idea."

"Easy," Blaine Anderson whispered to Kurt, taking hold of his boyfriend's hand. He had felt the taller boy tense at their teacher's words. Kurt had tearily confessed that he had been ignoring Karofsky's phonecalls, and Blaine knew he felt terribly guilty about it. "I've got you," he murmured.

Mr Schuester continued. "I want you guys to think about the reasons behind Dave's attempt. Then ask yourselves if it was worth giving up the rest of your lives. I guarantee you the answer is no."

"I don't think anyone here has thought about offing themselves, Mr Schue," Sam volunteered hesitantly. "I mean, yeah we're in glee-club, and we maybe get dramatic about stuff, but that's just like being a teenager, right?" He looked around at his fellow teammates, waiting for someone to agree with him.

"I've thought about it," Mr Schue said quietly. He raked his hand through his hair, sighing heavily. He couldn't face any of them, and directed his words to his drawn up knees instead. "I was caught cheating on a midterm, my junior year. Principal called my dad. I just, I couldn't... How could I look him in the eye after that? I had disappointed him."

Noah Puckerman, commonly referred to as Puck, scoffed at his teacher's pathetic story. "Dude, I get caught cheating all the time."

Mr Schue finally looked up at them, smiling wryly at the mohawked boy. "It's not about being caught cheating, Puck. My dad was my hero back then. All I wanted was for him to be proud of me."

"What did you do?" Kurt questioned softly. Somehow, after Santana's outburst about Quinn not answering her phone, they'd started whispering. It felt like something sacred was taking place.

"I ran out of the Principal's office, and up to the school's roof. I actually climbed all the way up to the edge. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't jump. Much as I thought I wanted to. Then I saw my dad's car driving up, and I climbed back down. And I'm glad I did," he smiled at them again. "If I hadn't, I would've missed out on the rest of my life. I wouldn't have met Emma, or any of you. And that would have been a tragedy."

"So," Finn said, squinting at a spot above his head that only he could see, "you want us to think about what we'd be missing if we tried to kill ourselves?" He looked down quickly at Rachel's gasp. "Not that I'm thinking of doing that," he added.

"Good," the tiny diva said. "That's-"

"I want my family to have a real home, that no one could take away from them, ever." Sam Evans was blinking his shiny eyes furiously, desperately trying to stave off his tears. "That's, um, that's what I'm thinking about," he added quietly.

"I'm thinking about why Mr Schue has a spoon in his pocket," Sugar Motta said, smacking her gum and pointing at the chuckling man. "Because if you're thinking of spoonfeeding us, I have to object. Most of these people have cooties. Sorry, Aspergers." She smiled at her teammates apologetically. What? "Germs are really gross, and 'sick' is not a good look on me."

That seemed to lift the heavy mood a little. Everyone traded smiles and eyerolls at the heiress' behaviour.

"I'm looking forward to seeing my kid take his first steps," Artie Abrams offered. "Actually, I'm just looking forward to even having a kid." He could feel himself blushing under his friends' scrutiny, and he adjusted his glasses unnecessarily to regain his composure. "Who's next?" he quickly asked, waving off their attention.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Rachel Berry's kids," Mercedes Jones filled the gap, chuckling as the brunette diva beamed at her and mouthing 'Thank you'. She sobered after a moment though. "I want to win a Grammy for my hit collaberation with Ms Beyonce, that she begged me to do with her."

Kurt shook his head pityingly at his other best friend. "Good luck with that," he teased. "You'll be competing against my duet with Celine." The two hi-fived, before Kurt sighed. "Seriously though, I'm looking forward to watching my dad make a difference in Congress."

Blaine nodded in support of his boyfriend. "And the actualization of marriage-equality in all fifty states," he added sagely. "You're all invited, by the by," he said expansively, waggling his eyebrows at a blushing Kurt. "What?" the former Warbler teased him, "you don't wanna marry me?"

"That's what you're thinking about?" the other boy asked, voice going a little high. He could only smile in response to Blaine's enthusiastic nodding.

"Aww," Rachel cooed, taking in her favourite gays. "That's so sweet you guys." She turned to share a smile with her fiance, before announcing: "I'm looking forward to being friends with all of you for the rest of my life. Even you, Santana," she winked at the other girl.

Santana mockingly clutched her heart. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, that and for my abuela to love me again." The words were said nonchalantly, but everyone knew how much it really meant to the tough girl. Brittany kissed her on the cheek, before checking her phone again.

"I just wish Q wasn't mad at me."

"Baby girl, I'm sure Quinn aint mad at you. Can't nobody be mad at you anyway," Mercedes said, leaning over to hug the pouting blonde. "I'm sure she'll call you back in a bit, just relax okay."

Brittany only shook her head. She had a bad feeling in her stomache, and everyone was talking about what's gonna happen in the future, but no one seemed to care about what's happening right now. She turned to Santana again. "What about New York?" she asked, bottom lip trembling. "Q was in the bathroom a really long time."

Tina Cohen-Chang frowned in confusion. "What?" She exchanged a look with her boyfriend, Mike Chang. "Why are we talking about New York bathrooms? I thought we were focusing on all the reasons to not commit suicide?"

"You don't understand," Puck drawled, pointing at the pair. "My baby mama never ignores a call from Britt."

The girl in question nodded her confirmation, adding a serious " Never ever," complete with accompanying hand gestures.

Puck nodded at her indulgently, before addressing the Asian girl again. "She'll say she can't talk right now or whatever, but she always answers. I don't know what the big deal is about her bein' in the john though," he added thoughtfully. He looked inquiringly at Santana; maybe she got it.

The latina was staring back at him with wide, on-the-verge-of-panicking eyes. "B, try Q's number again." Her voice was uncharacteristically strained, and Puck could feel his pulse picking up. Santana didn't panic, ever. Especially not about Quinn Fabray.

"Maybe she ducked outta classes for the rest of the day?" Sam said uncertainly. "She seemed kinda upset after our meeting earlier," he added, turning towards Mercedes for support.

"Yeah," the black girl said. "That's probably it, and she just doesn't want us to know." She smiled at Brittany again, trying to calm her down."I'm sure whatever it is, she aint mad at you, boo."

The blonde dancer wasn't convinced, however. Didn't any of these people get it? Weren't they Q's friends? Thankfully, Santana was on her side.

"Babe," she said softly, eyes locked on a suddenly squirming Sam, "when was the last time you saw Quinn?" Her growing apprehension was clear for all to see, and a hush fell over the group.

"She was in the God Squad meeting with us earlier, like Sam said," Mercedes offered. "We were gonna take an edible arrangement to the hospital for Dave. But she changed her mind about goin' with after Kurt-" The girl cut herself off to glance at Kurt.

Santana noticed. "After Kurt what? What did you do, Hummel?" She was glaring at the boy, daring him to answer. If he said or did anything to Quinn, she was gonna rip his face off.

Brittany's phone lighting up cut through the rapidly building tension, causing everyone to breathe sighs of relief. "Q!" the blonde called out, smiling widely, fears instantly forgotten.

"See, crisis averted," Sam said to Mercedes, with a wink. He had felt a sinking in his gut for the few seconds that Santana's laser-eyes had been focused on him, almost accusingly. Obviously, whatever the other girl thought had happened to his ex wasn't that serious. It didn't even occur to the football player to wonder why Santana had been so worried.

Despite her appreciation for Sam's humour, the soulful diva's eyes weren't on him right now. She was watching as Brittany listened to the voice on her phone, frowning when the bubbly girl's previous excitement turned into confusion. Her heart lurched when the tears that had been threatening to fall since this stupid meeting started, were finally tracking down pale cheeks.

"Oh no," she breathed. "Oh hell no."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

SANTANA

Santana swore she could feel her heart breaking in her chest; a piece for every tear falling from Brittany's pain-filled eyes. She was vaguely aware that she should be taking the phone- that harbinger of sorrow -away from her girlfriend ("Protect her," she hears Quinn's voice -solemn and sure, the way she'd always been in the face of **BrittanyandSantana**, since the beginning) and she (Santana) is failing to do just that. But **God**, she can't feel anything except her heart breaking to the rhythm of Brittany's tears.

The first time she saw Quinn Fabray, the blonde was staring at a bubbling-over-with-laughter Brittany S. Pierce. Santana still holds the look on her face as the epitome of **wonder**. She only realized later what had put that look on Quinn's face. It was probably very closely resembling the look on her own when Brittany claimed her (Santana) as friend too. It was being offered the most precious, fragile thing, without any doubts it would be harmed. After all these years, all the mistakes and anger and shame between then and now, Brittany's faith in them, in their worth, had never wavered. She still trusted arguably the two most horrible girls at McKinley with her goodness, her innocence, with her heart, every day.

"Protect her," Quinn had said after the first time they'd fought -at freshman cheer camp- over something trivial (naturally). Brittany had only stared sadly while the two girls continued to bruise each other with vicious fists and even more vvicious words, not leaving despite the taunts yet not interrupting. They had been brutal and unapologetic, intent only on the other's destruction.

"Promise me, Santana. Please," with tears shining in desperately searching eyes. They'd had to endure three painful days of not-their-friend-anymore-Brittany before she forgave them. Ultimately they had pledged themselves (broken and lost and disbelieving of such faith in them, yet unwilling- very nearly unable -to turn away) to the girl who somehow had become their saviour.

"Promise we won't let anyone hurt her, ever."

Their anchor.

"Not even us. Especially not us."

Quinn had been so adamant about that, still so caught in the belief of her own lack of worth. And Santana had promised without a second thought, and Brittany had held out her arms for the first of many group hugs; three hearts finally beating as one.

Of course that was before Sue Sylvester began grooming Quinn to be the next Head Cheerio, and brainwashed the insecure freshman about what holding that title would entail. _God_, the latina realized with a start, _did anyone ever have the chance to know the girl behind that wonderstruck smile? Did anyone even care to try?_

When Santana came back to her senses, Brittany was cradled in Mercedes' arms. Her phone was at Mr Schue's ear, and the curly-haired man was nodding at whatever he heard. Tina was wrapped in Mike's embrace, snivels of "What's happening?" almost inaudible through her tears. Sam was so still and pale that he looked on the verge of passing out. Finn was holding hands with Rachel, who was also gripping Puck's arm. Kurt was on his stepbrother's other side, wide blue eyes trained on Mr Schue's every move. Blaine was rubbibg his boyfriend's back, whispering with his mouth pressed tightly to Kurt's ear. Artie had manoevred closer to Santana, and offered his hand when he saw her glanncing at him.

"You okay?" He grimaced, "Sorry, stupid question." He had the grace to blush when she glared at the 'stupid' leaving his mouth in her presence. "Sorry," he grimaced again.

Santana ignored his awkward fumbling in favour of getting closer to their pacing teacher. She neeeded to talk to Quinn. She needed to hear her husky voice and feel her penetrating gaze and look upon her wonder-filled smile again. She needed to promise that she'd protect her from getting hurt, even by herself. Especially herself.

She needed to be one of the people -the chosen few- who knew the real Lucy Quinn Fabray.

PUCK

Puck winced when Santana's lifeless gaze travelled over him. He felt like back in Sophomore year, after he'd slept with Quinn. The latina had looked right through him then too. He'd only figured it out when the pregnancy rumour was confirmed to be more than just another rumour. Quinn was raised Catholic, and the Church had a thing about contraceptives. And she'd warned him, and he'd said "Trust me." Except he'd only proven that she couldn't, that she shouldn't. Even after Beth was born, when they'd looked at her in the hospital for what he'd feared would be the last time, he hadn't seen that he had failed the girl he claimed to love.

He hadn't wanted to let Beth go, had believed she was his only proof of being more than a Lima Loser like his dad. He had still insisted on calling Quinn his 'baby mama' despite her protests, selfishly holding onto their connection when all she'd wanted was forget it ever existed. And then Santana's eyes had softened, in New York after they came back from getting Quinn's hair cut, and the blonde had only laughed when he said those hated words again.

It had been like seeing her for the first time, and if it hadn't been for Lauren he could have fallen in love so easily. Instead, Puck had gained a friend truer than any he'd ever known. The girl proved to be unwaveringly loyal, honest without being cruel, and resolutely herself in spite of her flaws. And even if it hadn't lasted through the whole summer, he couldn't -wouldn't- let her go. Because he **did** love her now, and he always would. She was a big part of what made him strive to be better.

Together they had created a miracle in Beth, despite his initial arrogance and her confused manipulations. And yeah, sleeping with Shelby had hurt her, he'd realized later, but not because she was disgusted; rather it was that he had slipped into the role of co-parent and left her behind so easily.

He patted Rachel's hand. getting her to loosen her grip on his arm enough for him to stand up. He moved towards where Santana was standing, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. She tensed at the touch, but she relaxed when she saw who it was. A small nod was the only indication that she accepted his support, and that he'd understood her typically passive aggressive posturing when it came to Quinn being in trouble, and needing his help. Puck wanted to add that he had her back, but Santana promptly turned again to watch their teacher, causing him to squeeze her shoulder in assurance. Her frowned when he felt her trembling under his touch, and then he saw why: Schuester was finally off the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Will Schuester was defeated. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. How was he supposed to help his kids -hell, anyone- stay standing after something like this? Hadn't they been through enough?

He turned to face his glee club, conscious of the tears staining his cheeks. Santana and Puck were the only ones not still sitting down, _appropriately so_, he thought stiltedly. **God** he wished Eomma was here, holding him up like she always does. He didn't think he could do this.

"What happened? Who was on the phone?" Santana was tightly coiled, body so rigid and jaw clenched. Her words were barely audible. Puck's white-knuckled clutching onto her shoulder didn't seem to faze the stonefaced girl at all.

Will sighed brokenly, begging for someone else -**anyone**- to take this burden from him. Not finding any relief, he stepped closer to the duo. "That was Joe Hart; he said he's a student here?"

"Sophomore," Sam confirmed. His voice came out a hoarse whisper he'd never heard from his mouth before.

Nodding, Will continued. "Mrs Fabray had to be subdued, so he kept Quinn's phone." He took a deep breath, swallowing down the sob that threatened to escape when he said her name. "She couldn't..." Overwhelmed, the curly-haired man covered his face, letting the tears come in full force.

Santana grabbed his hands away, glaring fiercely at his wet face. "No! You don't get to break down until you're done! Okay? Now man up and tell us what the hell happened to Q!"

Puck stepped closer too, but didn't say anything. His gaze was as fierce as the seething cheerleaders, and there were tears welling in his eyes. Will nodded numbly, trying to even out his breathing enough to tell them the rest. It was the least he could do for them, for Quinn.

"They're at the hospital...Lima General," he said softly. Santana was back to her earlier stance, arms folded around her chest, holding herself together at all cost. "Joe walked her home. Quinn started drinking, heavily from what he's explained." He licked his lips, tasting the salty residue of his tears. Strangely, the more he spoke, the calmer he felt. He didn't hold out any hope that it would last though.

"I guess she was really upset after you guys left the God Squad meeting, and um...Joe didn't feel right just leaving her like that, alone. He said she was talking about her mom, and her dad. About Karofsky."

"Oh God," Mercedes whimpered. "Kurt-" she started, but couldn't continue. The boy let out a choked sob at her words, at Mr Schue's words. He held tighter onto Blaine, eyes imploring their teacher to do something, anything, to make the pain and guilt stop.

"Why didn't this Joe guy stop her?" Tina mumbled. "Who is he, anyway?"

Brittany wriggled a little closer to Mercedes, settling herself a little firmer in the black girl's embrace. She wanted Santana, but she could tell her girlfriend needed to feel strong right now. She answered Tina's question with a scoff. "Like anyone could make Q do anything."

Will looked over at them, but without any recognition. Things weren't making sense in this moment. He raked his hands through his hair. "It sounds like she started having some kind of seizure. Uh, I guess there was no one else around, so Joe called 911 and waited with Quinn until the ambulance came."

"Is she still alive?" At Rory's question, all eyes snapped to him immediately. The scrutiny made him blush, and he fiddled with Mr Schue's forgotten jar of peanut-butter to avoid it, waiting silently for the answer. Sam was reminded suddenly that the same had been asked earlier, by Joe no less, about someone else. Today was so messed up.

"Duh," came the response from Brittany. She sounded as serious as the gleeks had ever heard her, and everyone shifted uncomfortably. If the normally vibrant girl was so affected that she didn't even act like herself anymore, what about the rest of them? They didn't stand a chance.

"Brittany's right," Will said. "Thankfully, Quinn was still conscious when she was admitted to the hospital. She should be fine."

It was what Santana had been waiting to hear apparently, because as soon as Will finished speaking, the latina let out a shuddering breath. Puck pulled her into a hug, crying into her neck. She squeezed him once, roughly, before wrenching away. Will put out a hand to steady her, but she wasn't paying him any heed.

"Britt," she barked, already heading to the stage's exit. "Let's go!"

In a flurry of movement, the rest of New Directions also got to their feet. "Guys, wait!" Will called after them, but to no avail. He was soon the only one left, staring out over the empty auditorium. "Be careful," he sniffed, wiping his face clear of tears. "Please, be careful."

**I have nothing left to give, I have found the perfect end**

**You were made to make it hurt, disappear into the dirt**

Quinn sometimes hates her ability to 'read' people.

She thinks, on her more philosophical days, that it is the (inevitable) precursor to the thing which she wants and hates the most: being like her father. It's the real connection she shares with Puck, even if he didn't -would never- know. They were both struggling with their father's shadows. Only she could never decide whether she wanted to stay in it. puck on the other hand, was always fighting to get out of it. She finds their **situation** (a sneer, because really? It's kinda pathetic) tragically ironic. At least no one had thought of forcing them to get married 'for the baby'. One of the few things she'd found to be grateful to her father for, that year.

Three weeks into the summer before Junior year, she'd written a letter to him. Her mother hadn't known, of course. Quinn had sent it off and then spent the rest of that day staring at Beth's sonogram; her and Puck's attempt at outrunning their fathers. Russell had not replied, naturally. Quinn cried. Judy noticed, but didn't ask why. The summer dragged on.

When school starts, Quinn begins to actively use her observational skills. She finds the results disappointing, but she had predicted that they would be, and it doesn't hurt that much. This doesn't explain why she attacks Santana, and even in the middle of it she's questioning her actions. Brittany's reproachful eyes gives her pause until they don't anymore, and Quinn realizes it's herself she hates in the end. The thought gives her a strange clarity, and she rethinks it ad nauseum.

While her 'self' is examining the dimensions of her hatred (and the accompanied loathing) the rest of her auto-pilots her way to Sam. He is somehow both like and not like Finn, and therefore both like and not like Puck. It's refreshing. She's fine with him until she's not, and then she's kissing Finn again. Santana is unhappy with her, she can tell that much across the distance left to grow between them, but her reflection doesn't care. Quinn wishes the feeling would be realer, last longer. But it doesn't.

Lauren Zizes turns out to be good for Puck, and Quinn feels a sort of gratitude towards the other girl. It is of course filtered through the ever-present hate (and loathing), and inevitably it emerges jaded on the other side. When miserable Lucy smiles at her from mere inches away, she sighs. Outside, she paints panic and rage and mortification. Outside, she promises retribution. Outside, her dreams are shattered. Quinn is reminded of this moment's fallacy when Finn dumps her at Jean Sylvester's funeral. She cries. He notices, but doesn't ask why.

**Carry me to heaven's arms, light the way and let me go**

**Take the time to take my breath**

The drive to the hospital is strangely soothing. Santana doesn't speed, doesn't attempt crazy shortcuts to get them there faster. The radio is playing some Top 'Something' countdown that Brittany is sitting-down-dancing to. When they get to the venue, Santana parks efficiently in the first space she sees, turns the car off, and exits. Brittany extends her pinky, and they enter the hospital together without hesitation.

Puck lags behind, hoping to shore up some strength to survive their continued weirdness. While he's been wiping his tears away every other second, and Brittany's had ceased the minute they'd gotten into Santana's car, the latina hadn't cried at all. He is simultaneously amazed and freaked that he'd noticed. It makes him think he never knew her as well as he thought.

Once inside the hospital, the girls drag him into an elevator. They seem to know exactly where to go, and Puck makes a conscious decision to follow, without doubt or question. _This is trust_, he thinks, absently watching the floor numbers light up. _This is what I couldn't give to Quinn_. He feels a fresh wave of tears gathering when it hits him that she never asked it of him again.

**I will end where I began**

Judy Fabray is staring straight ahead (at nothing) when the trio arrive. She smiles at Brittany, whom she absolutely adores (for Lucy), but only nods at Santana, whom she merely tolerates (for Quinn). The boy remains unacknowledged until he sniffles. If anyone is startled by the hug, they don't mention it.

Joe Hart rounds the corner with two soda cans, and falters when he sees Judy isn't alone anymore. Quinn's earlier ranting had been a jumbled mess, mostly, but he recognized the mohawk.

"You're Noah," he says once he's close enough, voice strained. He's heard far too much about the people in Quinn Fabray's life, and the descriptions of their offenses crawl around in his mind, seeking a foothold.

"Puck," the boy corrects, smirking at the other boy's subtle flinch.

"That's what she said," Joe explains, and then frowns at the inelegant snort coming from the tan-skinned girl. Santana, he names her silently, forcing his body not to bristle. _They're in shock_, he tell himself. _Give them a break_. Give them a chance, Quinn's broken voice sneers in his memory. They'll prove you wrong everytime.

"What?" he asks her, mildly annoyed by her snickering. _These are your closest friends? _he questions the girl lodged in his heart. _These unaffected children?_

"Nothing," the blonde girl -Brittany, he knows- answers. "She's just in scared that Quinn's gonna die. I'm Brittany." The girl tilts her head, looking suddenly younger when she asks, "Did Q say why she was mad at me?"

_Finally_, Joe thinks, staring into Brittany's innocently trusting eyes. _Someone understands_.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

**PAST**

In the summer before Senior year, Judy gets to really know her daughter.

They make healthy dinners and decadent desserts together, laughing at how easily the kitchen becomes a complete mess. They learn each others favourite books to read, tv shows to mock, music to share. When Judy invites Quinn to her new church she accepts, and Judy doesn't outright dismiss the printed facts of alcoholism left on her bedside table. It's a slow yet steady sort of progress, but it's good and it's theirs, and Quinn looks and feels more like herself every day.

The therapist the two finally agree on is unconventional enough for Quinn's newly discovered whimsical side, yet honest enough to win Judy's trust. He looks like an overgrown child, but in the best ways; hair wild and untamable, his bright eyes taking in the world with wonder and curiosity. He meets Quinn at the local skate-park for their individual sessions, and gives Judy the more traditional 'office' option. Judy is unsure of this peculiar arrangement, until she begins to see her daughter smile more. Quinn's hazel-greens are twinkling with interest and a touch of impish mischief, that Judy realizes starkly she has been missing for years.

Quinn introduces her to anime, discussing the messages she's found in titles like Full Metal Alchemist, and Ghost In The Shell. This leads to Michael Chang becoming a regular presence at the Fabray residence on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. His girlfriend, Tina visits with her grandmother at the old-age home, and Mike gets freaked out by the old folks' lack of flexibility. The three of them have a secret handshake, and for the first time in living memory Judy is laughing out loud in her own house. It's thrilling, and a better mood enhancer than any tumbler of gin.

Slowly, and in small ways, Doctor Marcus gets Quinn to rebel and experiment, while teaching Judy the tools to react with appropriate options for punishment. The goal is for mother and daughter to relish the pieces of childhood Quinn has left, and it seems to work just fine. When Judy meets the Skanks (a name she detests and refuses to use, to their chagrin) they intimidate her. She gets over it when they (Sheila, Veronica and Mackenzie) tease Quinn about Lucy Caboosey and losing Prom Queen. Unfortunately the girls decide to celebrate her breakthrough by getting obnoxiously drunk, and it is while The Mack is puking her guts out in her bathroom that Quinn turns to Judy and says the magic words.

"I love you, Mom."

Right now, as she sits next to her daughter's self-proclaimed best friends, all judy wants is to hear those sweet words one more time, and know that they're real.

**PRESENT**

Finn waited by the driver's side for Rachel to complete her post-travel checklist. They hadn't spoken much on the way from school. The tall footballer had wanted to question his fiancee's willingness to skip the rest of her classes to rush to see someone who didn't even like her, but his own reluctance to see Quinn kept him quiet.

He couldn't figure out why it was bothering him so much, but he suspected it might be because he felt guilty. This whole thing just felt so unreal. Earlier, he had been pissed that Rachel would sell him out like that; being so okay with that slmy Warbler-guy posting gross pictures of him on the internet. A part of him still couldn't believe she'd refused to drop out of Regionals, without a single thought to how he felt. and then they'd geard about Karofsky, and now this quinn thing. He just didn't know what to think or how he was supposed to feel about everything right now. _Quinn didn't even like booze_.

"What?" Rachel was holding his arm, her car already locked. He hadn't even noticed.

"What?" he frowned in confusion. "I didn't say anything." Rachel frowned back at Finn, claerly worried about his strange behaviour.

"You said something about Quinn." He smiled sadly when she practically whispered the blonde's name.

"Sorry. Just thinking out loud, I guess." They started walking to the hospital's main entrance.

"Oh," Rachel said. "You okay to go inside?" She squeezed his arm before tangling their hands together. "If you need a moment to compose yourself-" she began, but he shook his head.

"I'm fine, Rach." He pushed his free hand deeper into his jeans pocket. "As long as you're with me, everything's fine." And it was. He knew it the moment he'd asked Rachel to marry him. Nothing could bring him down if he had her.

"Okay then," she said, trying to hide the pleased smile and slight blush his words caused. "Let's go."

"Yeah," Finn answered, squaring his shoulders a little, "let's do this."

**FUTURE**

Shelby Corcoran prided herself on always knowing what to do in any situation, so when the hospital called her she wasn't completely thrown. She is aware -of course- of still being listed as a 'person of interest' in the event of Quinn Fabray's hospitalisation, but she had not anticipated being called about something like this. Ever. Even knowing, or at least strongly suspecting that the girl waws desperate and not thinking clearly, and probably suffering some form of depression, Shelby had not once entertained the thought.

Really what she thought Quinn needed was some hardcore therapy, but suicide? She shook her head, unable to believe the girl had gotten so lost. The whole debacle with Beth had proven to Shelby that underneath the obvious regret and anger, Quinn had a core of pure steel. She was stronger than any teenager had a right to be, really. And to just throw it away; just give up? It wasn't -had never been- in Quinn's nature. At least not the Quinn Fabray she'd dealt with.

Shelby allowed her gaze to take in her cluttered office, absently picturing her explanation of a granite headstone to a curious Beth. The moment of reflection faded into disappointment, and soon she reached for her bag.

"Sorry kid," she murmured, locking the door behind her, "you don't get to check out on that little girl. Not like this. No freaking way."

**And I will find the enemy within**

**cause i can feel it crawl beneath my skin**

**Dear Agony**

**A/N1: **Thanks to everyone for the alerts and reviews! I'm so glad people like this story! I was super pissed the first time I watched this episode; not only do they let Kurt (and Sam and Mercedes who should know better) trivialize Quinn's past, they make her wishy-washy about her decision to support the Finchel-wedding. Nice, Glee, real nice.

**A/N2: **Glee is not mine. 'Dear Agony' by Breaking Benjamin.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Kurt had collapsed completely by the time they reached the hospital. Blaine had been forced to drive his giant SUV, fighting to concentrate while to soothe his distraught boyfriend. He didn't know what else to do. It was obvious to him that Kurt still felt tremendous guilt about Karofsky, especially after ignoring the bully's call for help. Evidently, Quinn's suicide attempt was hitting him hard as well. Blaine just couldn't guess why. Kurt wasn't particularly close to the ex-Cheerio; in fact no one was, except maybe Santana and Brittany, and them only rarely.

"She had actually seemed closer to Rachel of late," he mumbled, carefully parking the car. "We're here," he said, making sure Kurt could hear him.

Blaine moved to have a closer look at the boy when he didn't reply. Completely disregarding the awkwardness of their positions in the front seats, he drew a softly crying Kurt into his arms.

"Hey, everything okay?" Sam knocked on the driver's side window. He and Mercedes had driven together, and had been waiting for the two boys to arrive. They had known Kurt wouldn't be able to see Quinn without their support. In truth Sam didn't think he could face his ex-girlfriend without his friends' support either.

He must've looked really bad, since Blaine offered him a sympathetic smile as he pressed the central lock to open the back doors.

"Climb on in, Sam." He motioned to a still crying Kurt. "We're not ready to go inside just yet." He looked at his boyfriend, loosening his grip a little when he realized the boy's sobbing had stopped. "Feeling better?"

"This is all my fault," Kurt whispered, taking the hankerchief Blaine handed over to wipe at his face. He sat up a little further, taking deeper breaths to try and calm down.

"All those things I said to her," he continued. "I was so stupid." His voice was gaining strength with each word spoken.

Mercedes had joined the boys in the car. She flinched at hearing the self-loathing and regret in Kurt's strained voice.

"Why didn't either of you stop me?" He turned accusing eyes at his teammates, huddled miserably together in the back seat. "Why didn't you say something!" He slapped the dash angrily.

"Kurt!" Blaine admonished, placing a calming hand on his boyfriend's back. "Look, we are all upset about Quinn, okay. This guilt-trip really isn't helping any of us."

Sam smiled sadly, shaking his head. "You didn't make Quinn do anything, Kurt." He reached out to squeeze the boy's shoulder. "Besides, she said it herself, remeber? She never got to that point."

"Yeah, not until I opened my big mouth," Kurt retorted.

"Hey," Mercedes said, grabbing her best friend's hand. "I get that this is hard for you, okay; but it's hard for everyone else who cares about Quinn. And right now, a lot of them are inside that hospital, hoping and praying that she pulls through. I don't wanna be sittin' out here playin' the blame-game with you." She was crying again. "I need to believe she'll make it outta this, Kurt."

He gripped her hand tighter in understanding. Mercedes was struggling with her own amount of pain and guilt concerning the blonde-haired Quinn Fabray. _Some family glee-club turned out to be_, he thought bitterly. Looking into his fellow diva's eyes, he nodded. "You're right. We need to be there for Quinn. For her mom too. 'Cause even if it took this tragedy to make us realize it, we're family."

The girl managed a watery smile in response to his words, and the underlying resolve colouring his tone. "Okay," she breathed.

Kurt nodded at Mercedes again, before looking from her to Sam, and lastly to Blaine. "Just please, don't let go."

The former Warbler nodded back in confirmation. "Promise."

**Dear Agony**

**Just let go of me**

**Suffer slowly**

Joe had managed to find his way to the hospital's chapel, excusing himself as soon as a nurse led Mrs Fabray to Quinn's room. the blonde had yet to wake from having her stomach pumped, and her mother wanted to be there when she did. he'd felt out of place when more glee members had joined Puck, Santana and Brittany in their silent vigil.

He guessed they were all feeling some amount of guilt, especially Sam and Mercedes for not defending Quinn against Kurt's rather harsh words. He had decided to prat for all of them, asking that they found peace. Mostly though, he prayed for Quinn. He prayed that she would again experience the strength and love God provides in abundance for all His children. He prayed that she would know, truly and irrevocably, that her life was a precious gift; not to be abandoned but cherished.

Joe had initially been wary of the ex-Cheerio. Quinn was after all the one who had coined his new nickname of 'Teen Jesus'. The dreadlocked sophomore had found her tone quite condescending at the time; something he was used to, but definitely didn't appreciate. Yet when faced with Santana Lopez's Valentine request, it was Quinn who had been the most helpful.

He had never had to face the reality of homosexuality in relation to his faith, having lived a fairly sheltered life until starting public school, and the blonde had actually given him very good advice, without a trace of condescension or scorn. He'd approached her rather than Sam or Mercedes, because of the prominently displayed cross-necklace, which he later realized was for Quinn a tangible beacon of hope and light in her often difficult life. He had heard the rumours, of course; teen pregnancy, cheating, her ultimate fall from popularity. Joe had been torn between sorrow for her past mistakes, and admiration that she had made it through relatively unscathed. He had wondered how she dealt with all of it, without breaking down.

"Being a faithful Christian in the modern world isn't easy," she'd confessed when he had finally gathered the courage to ask. They were in the library, hidden deep between the stacks. Her voice had been weighted with an emotion the transfer student couldn't fully grasp. "We have so much more to handle, compared to the times spoken of in the Bible."

The boy had found himself hanging onto her every word. "I knew, almost from the beginning, that Santana had strong, romantic feelings for Brittany, and also that her feelings were returned. I struggled with it, of course," here she'd shrugged apologetically. "I think it's natural to struggle with homosexuality, in any context. For me personally, I had to realize that their feelings were genuine; no less real just because it was a girl inlove with another girl."

"The Bible says it's wrong though," he'd pointed out lamely. He'd recalled the God Squad's earlier meeting then, acknowledging if only to himself that their reasoning had been sound and logical. But he could not deny still being uneasy.

She had smiled her agreement with his statement. "Yes, but we've already established that the Bible said many things are wrong, which we as human beings don't hold to anymore." Quinn's tone of voice had sounded oddly amused. "What's the most important thing in the Bible, if you had to choose? What is God's ultimate message?"

Joe smiled fondly in the empty chapel, remembering their conversation. He had tensed up when Quinn asked that fateful question, thinking his earlier assessment of her would be proved correct. She was toying with him, laughing at his naivete. He had been dead wrong, of course.

"Love?"

Even now, he winced at the memory of his answer. His voice had wavered somewhere between defiance and uncertainty, and had cracked rather embarrassingly on that one syllable. The smile that had graced her face though, still warmed him to his very core. Quinn Fabray surely was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"That is absolutely right, Joseph Hart," she'd said. "To love God with all of your heart, and to love your neighbours like you love yourself." A slender hand had tucked a piece of hair behind a delicate ear. When she continued, her hazel eyes had held his spellbound. "It takes most people a really long time to get to this point, though." A thoughtful pause, before she'd nodded resolutely. "But that is why God is patient and forgiving. We are only human in the end, and not expected to be perfect; to understand every little thing in the world."

She had leaned in closer to him, as if sharing a secret. He remembers thinking the real secret was her incredible insight. She had amazed him. Her words bespoke of someone who had managed to reconcile her faith and her beliefs with the world, and had done so without sacrificing her integrity.

"People are so caught up in asking the big questions," she'd murmured wistfully, taking a look at her watch when some students walked past their corner. "They forget the simple things so easily."

"Love is simple?" he'd blurted, immediately blushing in embarrassment. That was the first time he'd heard Quinn laugh. It had been soft and girly, and he'd smiled in response, charmed despite his earlier suspicions.

"You don't think so?"

She had been right again, naturally. It was the basis of Christianity wasn't it? And how could he say he loved God, if he didn't love all that He created? If he couldn't live his beliefs, then he didn't really believe.

"You have to be okay, Quinn," he said out loud, closing his eyes again. The chapel, while small and empty was somehow comforting. He had taken off his shoes, as was his custom, and the carpet scrathed gently on his soles. He breathed in deeply, missing the scent of burning candles that was always present in his own church.

"You have to be okay, because I have so much still to learn from you. Your friends too. You are such a blessing to them, and they don't even realize."

"We do," a voice replied, startling the boy so much that he fell out of his seat. "Sorry," she continued, moving closer to him now. Joe turned to see who it was.

"The thing with Q is, she doesn't get how big of a blessing she is."

He smiled at her. "We'll just have to make her understand then, huh?"

**Dear Agony, I'm so sorry**

**Is this the way it's gotta be?**

Doctor Elliott Marcus swept past the huddled forms of Quinn Fabray's friends with barely a glance in their direction. He followed a nurse -a natural redhead, he noted clinically (absently)- towards his favourite patient's room. He knew it was unprofessional -his attachment to the teen was the cause of many a headache- but he really didn't give a damn about impropriety. The blonde with her carefully guarded eyes had captivated him from the start.

He squeezed Judy's shoulder briefly as he entered the room, before moving closer to the bed to stare at it's injured occupant. Quinn's short hair was adorably messy in sleep, and she was clutching a stuffed toy tightly to her chest.

"And who do we have here?" he asked Judy, hitching a thumb at it. It was impossible to identify from its current position.

"I didn't get a name," the older blonde answered, amused. "She had it with her in the ambulance."

"It's cute," came the psychiatrist's off-hand comment. he leaned in for a closer look while he spoke. "From the little I can make out, it looks cute." He straightened, turning to examine the chart clipped to the foot of the hospital bed.

"I've been too afraid to read it," Judy confessed quietly. "I wish I could have a drink right now, or ten. Or Russell," she added in a trembling whisper. A lone tear trailed down her cheek.

"Of course you do, Judes," Dr Marcus soothed, eyes skimming the pages of Quinn's chart. His tone was carefully modulated to appear indifferent. This was not his first tango with the elder Fabray's shame. "That's completely natural under the circumstances. You're feeling helpless and out of control." He finally put the chart down and stepped closer to her. "The important thing to focus on is acknowledging your crutches, and realizing how little you need them."

He looked back at Quinn, sighing sadly, before turning back to Judy. "She took a ton of pills. She mixed that with a ton of liquor." Judy flinched at the words; harsh and unforgiving and the stark truth, but she did not try to avoid his gaze.

"She is scared and confused and hurt and overwhelmed." Dr Marcus sqeezed her hands tightly, nodding solemnly at the tears wetting her cheeks. "Your daughter needs her mother now," he continued, voice steady and earnest. "She needs you, Judy; now more than ever. Not Stepford-Judy, or drunk-Judy, or friend-Judy. Quinn needs her mom."

He took out a purple hankerchief from his jacket pocket, handing it to her with another soft smile. Knowing both his patients and their aversion to showing weakness, even perceived weakness, he moved back to to Quinn's bedside, giving Judy the space needed to regain her composure.

"I always seem to end up failing her," she said at last. Dr Marcus gave no indication that he'd heard her, only looking up when Judy was across from him, staring down at her youngest with love. "I've never known exactly how to be a mom to her, you know." She placed a soft kiss on Quinn's forehead, "yet it's the only thing she's ever really asked of me."

An encouraging smile met her when she dared to look at the other man. "I know."

**A/N1: Thank you for the alerts and reviews, really appreciate it guys! I'm not sure yet, but I estimate we'll have some 'live' Quinn in about two-to-three chapters. Also, time for Sue, Rachel, and Shelby.**

**A/N2: The premise for this story was basically 'what if Santana had overheard Kurt's ridiculous speech, and proceeded to defend/protect her friend during the round-robin in the auditorium'.**

**A/N3: This chapter is dedicated to my favourite anon reviewer Nikki: Thanks for the support, love!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

NEWS **suddenly the lights go out**

Judy and Dr Marcus were addressing the New Directions congregating in the waiting room. The weary mother cast her gaze over them, offering a soft smile to those she recognized: Mike and Tina, Brittany, Puck. Her eyebrow quirked in question at the blonde when she didn't spot her darker half.

"San went to pray for Q, mama Fabray. She'll be back soon though," she quickly assured. "Her Mexican third eye will tell her if it's time." Judy nodded in understanding, expertly hiding her confusion at Brittany's words, having had extensive practice.

"So I'm back to mama Fabray again," she said instead. At the girl's nod, she continued: "I'm glad. I really missed my nickname."

Her smile slowly grew strained when her gaze landed on Finn and Rachel. The footballer guiltily averted his eyes, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Judy frowned in distaste when the brunette scooted closer to her boyfriend, offering him comfort. She schooled her features when she turned to acknowledge Mercedes, Sam and Blaine. "I don't know you, do I?" she asked of the boy, smiling uncertainly.

"I'm Blaine Anderson, Mrs Fabray," he said softly. "I only started at McKinley this fall. I'm really sorry about your daughter," he added.

Judy nodded, "Thank you, Blaine." She cleared her throat, taking a fortifying breath before speaking.

"Thank you to all of you, for being here, and for caring about my Quinnie." Her voice cracked as she started to cry once again. Dr Marcus reached for her hand, squeezing it in support.

"Take your time, my dear," he encouraged, smirking to himself at the shocked look the little Jewish girl threw his way. Judy exhaled shakily before continuing, still clinging to Elliott's hand. He had truly been her rock through all of this.

"The doctors had her stomach pumped, and they managed to get all the toxins out. At the moment, she's sleeping, and they're very happy with her status. She'll probably be asleep for the rest of the night; and yes she has been placed on a 72-hour suicide watch," she confirmed.

Sharp intakes of breath could be heard from the assembled teens, and Judy nodded solemnly at them. "I know it's difficult to hear, but it is the truth. Quinn tried to kill herself." The words seemed to echo in the room, and the gleeks found themselves unable to face Judy Fabray. It was just such an impossibility.

Quinn had wanted, and maybe still wants to die

SUE **let forever drag me down**

Becky Jackson stared in confusion as the pen hovered over the open journal, yet not a single word was being written.

"Coach?" she asked finally. "Do you need me to start?" The girl watched with mounting panic as a drop of liquid (definitely not ink) impacted the expanse of unmarred white with a soft plop. She immediately got up to close the office door: it wouldn't do for anyone to witness Sue Sylvester crying actual tears.

"She's gone, Becky," came the strained voice. Sue's eyes when they connected with Becky's were burning with her pain. "The best Cheerio I've ever had the pleasure of moulding, lost to us forever."

"What happened Coach?" Becky hesitantly pushed the box of tissues closer to her mentor. They were usually only ever needed on the wrong side of Sue's massive desk.

"Quinn Fabray tried to kill herself."

Becky shivered as the words echoed, seemingly bouncing from one trophy to the next, becoming louder and louder until it was the only sounds her ears could hear.

When she opened her eyes, she was in the sick-bay. She slowly turned her head when she heard movement. Her eyes landed on Coach Sylvester, who she suddenly realized was pillowing her head in her lap. Becky sat up abruptly. "Sorry Coach."

"She came and asked for her spot back," Sue said, staring intently at her clenched hands. "Of course, I turned her away. She was a quitter. She was a quitter and a traitor and a deserter."

Becky's heart skipped a beat at the defeated tone she could hear in the woman's voice. This was bad. This was so, so bad. Quickly forming a plan, she took Sue's hand and hauled her out of the small room. _Please let this work_, she begged silently._ I don't know where else to go._

SCHUE **I will fight for one last breath**

Will had retreated to his office after the kids left, and now sat absently twirling a spoon in his hands. If things had gone as planned, Rory would have tasted peanutbutter for the first time, and the gleeks would be committing themselves to reaching their dreams, no matter how small. Instead they were dealing with an attempted suicide by one of their peers.

His mind had recoiled when he first thought it, but the teacher could not deny the truth of Quinn's actions. Nobody got convulsions just from alcohol; she must have taken something else too. Pills if he had to guess. That smacked of premeditation to him, which means Quinn had wanted to kill herself.

He was brought out of his musings by Becky Jackson. The cheerleader was leading her coach by the hand. Will leaped out of his chair, alarmed to see the normally arrogant woman looking so lost.

"Becky?" he asked. "What's wrong?" He helped her seat the distraught woman, desperately searching Sue's eyes for an answer. "What happened?"

Becky cocked her head at Mr Schue in disbelief. "Q," she said, "duh. I gotta get to class." She got up to leave, turning at the door to point at the man. "Don't let her outta your sight, Schuester. Or you'll deal with me. Comprende?" Then she left.

Will tried again to gain Sue's attention, but the woman's eyes were vacant. He looked around, hoping somehow he'd get an idea of how to reach her. Nothing. The music room had never felt so empty.

SCHOOL **I will fight until the end**

Post-lunch classes continued undisturbed, most students having no idea what fate had befallen the ex-HBIC. There were a few exceptions though. English was rather quiet without the usual Berry/Fabray debate team. Spanish did not feature Santana flirting incessantly with Senor Martinez. History failed to ring with Brittany-related laughter. And while these absences were noted, they remained as yet unexplained.

Becky, having a rare free period, came to check on her charge accompanied by Miss Pilsbury and Coach Beiste. The trio were soon joined at the door by Artie, Sugar and Rory. Inside the choir room, Mr Schue and Coach Sylvester were still seated on the risers, looking equally catatonic. No one moved, not knowing what to say. The tableau was broken when a microphone and video camera were unceremoniously thrust in their faces.

"JBI here for WMHS news. Is it true that the lovely yet insane Ms Quinn Fabray has finally snapped, and exchanged this life for the next? Has she at long last shuffled off this mortal coil? Do share wlth us-"

He was suddenly on the floor, holding a hand to his bleeding face.

"You're still not worthy to even think her name, let alone speak it out loud." The words though whispered impacted the terrified boy like physical blows. "If I so much as suspect you of uttering her name or the details of this tragedy from your filth-infested mouth, I will eviscerate you, and all of your pathetic followers."

Becky heaved a huge sigh of relief. This was more like it. "Welcome back, Coach."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

**...you were made to make it hurt, disappear into the dirt...**

The edible arrangement that Mercedes had had commissioned for Karofsky looked somehow out of place in his hospital room. Kurt had offered to deliver the fruit basket on behalf of the incapacitated God Squad, hoping the respite would help him regain his equilibrium. Unfortunately, seeing David lying there, looking so much like a lost little boy, only served to further underscore his guilty feelings. Before he knew it, Kurt was sobbing into a bewildered Karofsky's chest.

"Kurt?" he asked softly. "What's wrong? Did somebody say something?" He tensed when his question only seemed to make Kurt cry more. "Did those Thurston assholes try to-"

"Quinn's in here too," the boy interrupted, "in the hospital. She tried to... it's all my fault," he mumbled, wiping the tears away. "This is all my fault. The things I said to her; I shouldn't- I was just so upset, you know?" He continued without waiting for an answer. "She spoke about what happened to you like it was nothing out of the ordinary; like you didn't try to-" he choked, still unable to say the words out loud.

"Kill myself." Evidently David did not have the same problem. "I tried to kill myself, Kurt." He was crying now too. "I tried to commit suicide. I hung myself up in my closet," he trailed off, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "God, I'm such a fucked up mess."

"We all are."

David's eyes flew open, his entire body tensing at the voice, before relaxing once the words registered. "Hey," he greeted softly, holding out his hand. "Kurt said... How're you holding up, with Quinn and everything?"

"Pretty much looking like that on the inside," Santana replied, motioning at the boy's tearstained face. She moved closer to grasp the former Bullywhip's hand, letting go after a few seconds. She needed to be strong right now. She could fall apart later.

"So, Lady Hummel, time for your confession," she said instead, eyes trained on Kurt. "This is the second time I've heard you sniveling about how this is all your fault. What the hell does that mean, exactly, and why am I getting the distinct impression that you're probably right?"

Santana knows, realizes in that detached manner so typical of an HBIC, that what she is doing- doing to Kurt and to herself -is not going to help anyone. Not **her**. But she needs to focus on something other than her own heartbreak and fear right now, and Hummel is just the unlucky bastard caught in her sights.

But then Quinn's voice is in her ear again, and really how many times have they been at this point? Brittany tames the beast for both of them, to varying degrees, but Quinn's the only one who understands it. The only one who knows (intimately) the gaping howling hole of rage inside her chest, in the place where her soul should be. Of course, she has it too. To add insult to injury, the dreadlocked boy's last words echo in her mind, and Santana bows her head in submission. _Q just saved your ass_, she wants to say but doesn't. Mostly because it's just another reminder that no one really knew the girl behind the mask. And yeah _whatever_, not too many people actually got close enough to even see the mask for what it was, but the glee club had always been different (or at least they'd all treated it as such).

"She doesn't even know how much of a blessing she is."

The words, she can tell, has startled both boys, but she thinks it's for different reasons. Santana clears her throat, staring at Kurt to let him know she's ready. _Just ignore the sheen of tears; come on, you can do it. See? It's easy._

"Lay it on me, Ladyface," she says once she regains her composure, making sure to cross her arms over her chest for good measure. She's in the perfect position to have to really work to hit the boy, if he should deserve it. Kurt seems to realize what she's done, and nods once in acceptance, before he starts talking.

Santana Lopez finally cries.

**...just let go of me, suffer slowly...**

Joe Hart steps out of the chapel with mixed feelings. He doesn't really belong here, he knows; with the friends and family of Quinn Fabray. A part of him wants to leave; tries to convince the parts of him that want to stay that Quinn will be okay now. That she's getting the help she needs from those she needs it from. And for. But still he cannot turn away.

He wonders, as he makes his way to the waiting room, where most of the New Directions still sit, if they have realized her power yet. She is the thing that connects a room full of strangers. Joe thinks absently that perhaps this is another thing, an irrefutable fact Quinn will need to be reminded of. He vows to be there, to do just that.

**...dear agony, is this the way it's gotta be?**

When Mrs Fabray reached for the stranger's hand, Rachel felt her eyes widen in surprise. She recognised the man, of course. She had seen him walking hand in hand, sometimes arm in arm, with a pink-haired Quinn on a few occassions this past summer. And she had assumed, like most everyone else, that they were _together_, somehow. Her shock quickly morphs into confusion at his tone of voice when he softly comforts the distraught mother. He doesn't sound like an uncultured skateboarding ruffian, out to corrupt a lost, desperate highschool girl. He sounds refined, genuinely warm and caring in the few syllables she manages to catch. Judy's reaction to his comforting presence further enforces the notion that what she thinks she knows about that _situation_, might be wrong.

Inevitably the thought that arises in her mind is this: What other things that she knows, has always believed to be true, aren't true at all?

For some reason, the thought brings Brittany's earlier question to her mind. What was it about Quinn in the bathroom in New York? Rachel has been telling people about her sixth sense for a while, and it has been reliable so far. She scoots out from under Finn's arm, and turns to search the slumped bodies until she finds Brittany. The girl is playing a game on Mercedes' phone, while the soulful diva runs her fingers through the blonde's hair. The short brunette only hesitates for a brief moment, before she's moving. She still wants everything too much sometimes.

"Hey, Brittany," she greets softly. Blue eyes flicker to her face, before going back to the illuminated screen.

"How you doin' Rach?" Mercedes asks her, not stopping the soothing motion of running her fingers through her charge's hair. "Is Finn handlin' this okay?"

Rachel quickly looks back at her boyfriend (fiancee?) before offering the girl a small smile. "I think we're all still in shock," she whispers. Her eyes roam over the others slowly, taking in the looks on their faces. She quirks an eyebrow when Mike and Judy do a weird handshake, while Tina watches on with a slightly wistful smile. She turns to see if Mercedes noticed the weirdness too.

"They watch these crazy Japanese cartoons together," the other girl supplies. "Quinn tried to get me into it too, but," she shrugs. "I prefer live-action."

"I didn't know that," Rachel admits, biting her lip in thought. Logically, she understands that there will be things she doesn't know about Quinn. They were never really _friends_, despite her many attempts to win the girl over. But they do have a connection. Something that's always been there, somehow tethering them together.

She takes a deep breath, before addressing Brittany once again. "What did you mean, earlier in the auditorium?" she asks. She holds the girl's gaze while Brittany contemplates the question, letting out a sigh of relief when the blonde put down Mercedes' phone and prepared to answer.

"Q was super sad in New York at first," she says quietly. Her eyes are on her fidgeting hands, suspiciously shiny. "San and me, we tried to cheer her up. But she was just a sad little panda, and I didn't like that, cos then I got sad too. And then you had that date with Finn, and Mr Schue went to go sing and dance on the stage. Q was crying."

Rachel can't stop herself from reaching for Brittany's hands. She squeezes once, then let's go. "Is that when she got the haircut?"

In her peripherals she can see Joe taking a seat next to Mike and Tina, and turning to ask Mrs Fabray something. She turns her back to them, wanting so badly to be one of the people in Quinn's inner sanctum. This will have to do for now. "What happened, Britt?"

"What the hell happened to you?" Her quest for understanding is interrupted by Mercedes' incredulous outburst. She turns quickly to see what has the girl so upset.

Santana looks murderous. There is no other way to describe her. She is cradling her hand in the opposite palm, and there are streaks of make-up down her face. The look in her eyes very clearly tells everyone to **back off**. She heads straight for Brittany, collapsing into her girlfriend's waiting arms with a loud sob.

Only now do they see she was followed by Kurt. He immediately goes to Blaine, holding his hand tightly while avoiding all eye contact with his curious teammates. The only sound in the room is Santana's whimpers and Brittany's attempts to calm her down. The tableau is broken when the man who isn't Quinn's forty-year-old boyfriend appraoches the pair with some bandages, and anti-septic spray.

"How about we take care of your hand, hm?" he asks lowly, gently taking Santana's injured hand in his own. She nids numbly at him, never letting go of the grip she has on her girlfriend. "Wanna tell me how this happened?" he asks her gently.

Santana takes a shuddering breath, before answering. "I punched a wall."

Everyone is listening and watching this strange exchange, unable to do much else. They are all in shock, again. They know of the latina's temper, of course, and they're all silently wondering what set her off _this time_.

"Why did you do that?" the man asks then, wiping the excess liquid off the trembling cheerleader's hand. There doesn't appear to be any broken bones; just a whole lot of scrapes and cuts.

"Because if I punched Hummel like I wanted to, he'd be dead."

"Santana!" Rachel gasps, unable to prevent her surprise. She winces when her outburst brings her into the focus of those fiery eyes. "Sorry," she mumbles apologetically.

"Trust me, Rachel," the girl says to her, voice hoarse from her crying. "You'd a' done the same."

She is so surprised by the girl's use of her name, she almost misses her next words.

"Wheezy, you an' Trouty better steer clear too. I'm **not** in the mood to be trifled with."

Sam only nodded his head, looking miserable once again, and oddly ashamed as well. Mercedes however, only moved closer to her fellow TroubleTone.

"You have every right to be mad at us," she began, reaching for the girl's shoulder. Santana's cold gaze stopped her movement though. "You have no idea how sorry we are-"

"No," the latina said, cutting off whatever Mercedes wanted to say, "you're the ones who have no idea! You were supposed to be her friends," she ranted, pointing at Sam too, "you knew her better than anyone else 'cept maybe me an' B, but you just let him talk to her like that. Say all that bullshit about how she didn't know what it felt like- She was sixteen!" she yelled. "She was sixteen and kicked outta her house and fucking **pregnant**..." The sobbing girl quickly found herself engulfed in Brittany's embrace again, and still she couldn't stop. Santana had reached her breaking point at last.

She continued, her voice slightly ragged from her tears, muffled by the way she tucked her head securely into the curve of Brittany's neck. "Harsh and reductive," she spat. "The world never stopped loving her, Kurt? Really? Were you struck by amnesia all of a sudden? Does the name _Lucy Caboosey _ring a freaking bell?"

Mercedes, Sam and Kurt were all crying by now, as was Judy Fabray. The words kept swirling around in Rachel's mind. She could hear them clearly; then in Santana's broken voice, then in Kurt's distinctive (self-righteous) drawl. The man (not-Quinn's-boyfriend) was murmuring softly into Santana's ear, rubbing her back in tandem with Brittany's strokes, trying to soothe her. In the midst of all this, Rachel stood motionless, mind in perfect turmoil.

Despite the many questions suddenly vying for her attention, she was still able to register the new addition to their little group.

**...somewhere far beyond this world, I feel nothing anymore...**

"Oh dear Lord," Shelby breathed, "Quinn's not dead, is she?"

**A/N: The scene with Kurt and Santana is basically what started me on this crazy journey. I also just realized that essentially this is all happening on the same day! Please read and review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

The tension created by Shelby Corcoran's very unexpected arrival, not to mention her inappropriate question, is broken by Beth's shout of "Nah!". The little blonde is hurling herself at the surprised boy, causing several hands to shoot out automatically to catch her. Beth only giggles, before burying her face in Noah's chest, bashful at all the unfamiliar faces staring at her.

Judy Fabray's barely audible gasp at her adorable behaviour catches Shelby's attention, and she quickly strides over to the older woman.

"I am so sorry, Mrs Fabray," she begins, offering her hand. At Judy'd questioning look (a raised eyebrow, naturally) she introduces herself. "I'm Shelby Corcoran. Uh, I'm still listed as her emergency contact," Shelby added with a slight grimace, clearing up everyone's confusion about why she was even there. "Has there been any news? What happened, exactly? the nurse who called was rather vague on the details."

Judy shared a look with the man who still has her hand clasped in his own, and nods for him to answer. As he begins to speak, Rachel can see their grip tightening, and it's obvious he won't be letting go anytime soon. Shelby cocks an eyebrow when he steps forward, as confused as the rest about this stranger's relationship to the Fabray women.

"Hello, Ms Corcoran," he says, holding out his free hand, giving Shelby a polite smile. "I'm Doctor Elliott Marcus, the family therapist," he continues, motioning in Judy's direction. "Why don't we sit down?" he then suggests to Shelby, who nods her agreement.

They make their way to the last empty chairs available, and it suddenly seems to Rachel that they're all collectively holding their breaths. It is eerily quiet once the adults finally settle themselves. It's quiet enough for them to hear the breath Mrs Fabray exhales when Doctor Marcus answers Shelby's prior question.

"Quinn is here because she took an excess of pills, and washed it down with an excess of alcohol." His tone is clinical and almost cold for the first time since they'd heard him speak. When he had bandaged Santana's hand earlier, his voice had been soft and warm, filled with compassion. He hadn't sounded like a **doctor**, is what Rachel decides. And now he does. Now he sounds like someone completely detached from the **emotions** of this case. All that he was focused on were the **facts**.

Judy's sniffles, from her position next to him, has Shelby reaching to clasp their hands together. The distraught mother offers a grateful smile in thanks.

"Was it...?" Shelby asks tentatively. Her eyes find her own daughter then, still comfortably cradled in her daddy's arms. She closes her eyes tightly, and Rachel can see her throat working as she struggles to compose herself.

"Yes," Judy says, eyes on little Beth as well. "It was intentional. Quinnie tried to commit suicide." The tears have made her voice sound hoarse, but the stillness of the waiting room means everyone hears her words, just the same.

For the assembled gleeks, hearing that cruel fact once again isn't easy. And it will never get any _easier_, either, Rachel knows. Quinn will always be the girl who tried to kill herself, after this. She will _always_ be the girl who wanted, maybe still wants, to **die**.

Something about **that** being Quinn's goal has Rachel suddenly racing for the bathroom. The rest of the room watches her go, blinking in confusion. It's Tina who goes to follow the singer, waving off Finn's attempt to get up too. "It's fine," she says softly, shyly, "I'll make sure she's okay." From the corner of her eye, she sees Beth waving back, and she can't help but smile. She really was the cutest thing.

In the bathroom, Rachel is bent over an empty toilet, dry-heaving with tears streaming down her face. Tina stands awkwardly behind her, unsure what to do. She hadn't really thought much further than just holding back the other girl's hair while she puked her guts out, except Rachel isn't actually _expelling_ anything. _Well_, Tina thinks, _harsh breaths and choked sobs probably don't count_. She is brought out of her thoughts when Rachel finally stands up, and stiffly makes her way to one of the basins. The Asian watches quietly as the other girl methodically washes her face and hands, steadily (and silently) regaining her composure. With one last fortifying breath, Rachel turns to acknowledge Tina's presence.

"Sorry," she says softly, awkwardly. Her eyes avoid Tina's. "Thanks for..."

"S-sure," Tina shrugs when Rachel trails off. "No biggie. You would have done the s-same for me, right?" She allows her gaze to wander, too; taking in the stark white hospital bathroom interior. Anything to avoid the brown eyes, still shining with tears and something like despair, somewhere in front of her. Uncomfortable with the continued silence, Tina eventually clears her throat. "Okay to go back?" she asks hesitantly. "It's cool if you wanna-"

"Quinn-" Rachel cuts her off; then cuts herself off, eyes tightly closed and fists clenched by her sides.

Tina's jaw snaps shut, and somehow she's back to holding her breath like earlier, when Judy Fabray answered Mrs Corcoran's unasked question. Her mind starts up a chant of _don't don't don't don't _but maybe Rachel has her own chant filling her mind, and

"Quinn tried to kill herself," Rachel says.

Tina flinches. Involuntary, her own eyes have clenched shut. Her fists are balled by her side too. She is helpless against the onslaught, even though she wants to yell at the other girl to **Stop it!**, to **Just shut the hell up, Rachel Berry!**, but she is frozen and helpless and desperately trying not to scream and

"She wanted to die," Rachel continues. "Quinn wanted to die."

The words reverbate in the bathroom, bouncing off the pristine tiles and burrowing into Tina's ears relentlessly. Every echo seems to highlight something different.

**Quinn** wanted to die.

Quinn **wanted** to die.

Quinn wanted to **die**.

Tina can't open her eyes, can't unclench her fists, can't do anything but listen, even if it's the last thing she wants to hear. _Please_, she pleads wordlessly. _Please, please, please_. Then Rachel takes a shuddering breath, and it's suddenly quiet, peaceful, and Tina can relax her shoulders again, and maybe even open her eyes and her fists and just **calm down**.

"What if she _still_ wants to?" Rachel asks, and the whisper is so soft; soft enough that Tina could easily pretend she hadn't heard it. And for a split-second, she wants to. God knows, it would hurt less if she could leave Rachel to her despairing realizations. But she doesn't. She promised Finn that she'd take care of Rachel, and that's what she'll do. And later, when all this is over, she will hold onto Mike's hand and hug Quinn tightly and scold her about ever thinking leaving them was a good idea. But right now, she guides Rachel back into that silent, stifling waiting room, and sits her between herself and Mike, and doesn't let go. She chooses to interpret the squeeze to her hand as 'thanks'.

Santana scoffs at her tear-stained face, but refrains from any further comment when Brittany whispers in her ear. Mike places his arm around Rachel's shoulders,pulling her closer to his body while his hand tangles in Tina's hair. Finn shoots the Asian dancer an unsure look, and from the corner of her eyes, Tina sees her boyfriend subtly shaking his head. They were all hurting, and trying to cope with the awful truth in their own way. If Rachel wanted to do that outside of her fiance's arms, then so be it. He could just deal. Wanting to get married before even graduating highschool was a stupid idea anyway.


End file.
